


I Think I Like My Occupation Fine

by ResidentHesitant



Series: Sing Timeline [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Inspired by Music, Nonbinary Character, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHesitant/pseuds/ResidentHesitant
Summary: Life at last.“We have to leave out the back, that’s where the tunnels are.”The younger boy looks nervous.“Are you sure?”“Do you want to stay here and rot or leave and actually, like, live?”





	I Think I Like My Occupation Fine

**Author's Note:**

> directly inspired by party at the end of the world. a jam.

Life at last.

“We have to leave out the back, that’s where the tunnels are.”

The younger boy looks nervous.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want to stay here and rot or leave and actually, like, live?”

The younger boy rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m not scared,” he says, looking at the floor, “Just worried you’ll get worse.”

“We’re letting go of this shit, aren’t we? If anything, I’ll be better.”

The younger boy looks at the older boy.

“Let’s go, then.”

* * *

 

Life at last.

Their group leaves them in the shipping container in the night. The younger boy is sick. The older boy is gone, replaced by someone better. The person he’s been replaced with still looks like him, but is so much more. 

The younger boy sits in the back of the shipping container. The older teen looks out across the sand, shielding their eyes from the desert sun. 

“I thought they liked us,” the younger boy complains.

“You’re young and sick, they wouldn’t want to take the chance.”

“It’s just heat stroke.”

“Heat exhaustion,” the older one corrects. There is a shape moving on the horizon. They’re not coming towards the shipping container. The older one sighs in relief, giving their brother the spare water bottle. “Sleep. You need it.”

“Feels like the end of the world,” the younger boy says. The older one laughs, closing their eyes and leaning against the wall of the container.

* * *

 

Life at last.

The younger one caught and cooked a snake and earned his name. 

The older one still didn’t have one by the time they made it to their first concert.

A glitter packet explodes, showering them in silver. It gets on their face and hair, making them really shine. Someone calls them motorbaby and offers to buy them a drink. In the neon, they almost accept.

Until they’re interrupted. Until the party stops. Until the shock of a ray gun blast makes one person scream, then another, then another. Until everyone’s running. The older one finds the younger boy in the crowd, and like everyone else, they run.

“Dracs are like a venom,” they say later that night, camping in the shell of an RV.

“Explain,” the younger boy says from the decaying couch.

“They poison whatever party they sting.”

And then, they think, they have a name.

* * *

 

Life at last.

They get a crew. They get a home. They get criminal records and bounties on their heads. They get legendary.

Four kids in the desert - one who’s been there his entire life, one who learns martial arts when he’s not sick, one who knows everything about weapons, and one who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and fuck, they never had.

And they take in the Girl, their little sister and little savior. She’s going to save the desert, rumor has it.

* * *

Life at last.

She’s captured.

The crew parks outside the main headquarters in the pouring rain. The leader storms the building, blaster ready. Their crew follows. It’s been a while since they’ve seen rain this hard. It runs down their face in rivulets, thundering on the pavement like their heartbeat.

The crew finds the Girl soon enough, safe. The leader still feels like that scared boy in the city, despite being so much more.

The crew leaves. Or, at least, tries to. The room is flooded with soldiers.

_ Dracs are like a venom, _ the leader remembers saying,  _ They poison whatever party they sting. _ They grab one masked soldier by the hair  as they shoot, smelling formaldehyde and something acrid. They rip the mask off. A man falls to the ground. They freeze, staring at the body.

A shot from a blaster hits them square in the chest. It passes through their heart - through the front, and out the back. They are crowded against the wall by a soldier with a personal vendetta. Their brother shouts for them. Their friends don’t seem to notice. Their enemy fires, white hot energy coursing through their jugular. They hear the Girl scream as they fall to the floor.

Life at last.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me about it if you enjoyed! kudos and comments appreciated, i love the feedback! catch me on tumblr @probablypartypoison <3 seeya next time B;0


End file.
